


It's Not Only Magnets Which Pull at Each Other

by HoneyCoconut



Series: The Stars Are Far Apart Too [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bratty Keith (Voltron), Dom Lance (Voltron), Drinking, Galra Keith (Voltron), Human Lance (Voltron), I Don't Even Know, Implied Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Party, Secret Relationship, Sub Keith (Voltron), but in the background - Freeform, i guess, implied pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 00:44:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18510457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyCoconut/pseuds/HoneyCoconut
Summary: The party, or gala, or whatever this is, is horribly, mind-numbingly boring.Keith hates it.But that's okay.Because Lance is across the room, and there's this tension between them that has been there for quite some time, and that has unloaded more times than Keith can count. He's sure it'll unload again soon.





	It's Not Only Magnets Which Pull at Each Other

The party, or gala, or whatever this is, is horribly, mind-numbingly boring.

Keith hates it. 

But that's okay.

Because Lance is across the room, and there's this tension between them that has been there for quite some time, and that has unloaded more times than Keith can count. He's sure it'll unload again soon.

Keith can feel Lance's eyes on him as he takes a sip from his glass; it's a heavy-bottomed glass filled with some kind of liquor that makes his head light and his chest too warm. He knows that Lance's had alcohol too, because Lance isn't even making an effort to be subtle. 

He wonders how long Lance will be able to hold himself back. He's usually patient, but Keith hopes he won't be tonight.

Even if there is a room full of people separating them, reminding them that they shouldn't be playing this little game of theirs. 

Lowering his glass, Keith tilts his head back and lets out a quiet sigh that he knows Lance isn't able to hear. But he knows that Lance can read it from his lips; knows that he's imagining the way Keith's sigh sounded, countless sighs of his replaying in Lance's head.  
Keith's buzzing with too much pent up energy and perhaps too much alcohol, and he feels untouchable. 

But he'll always let Lance touch him. 

He'll always want Lance to. 

Their eyes meet across the room, and something spans between them, but if Keith claimed that it was like electricity, sparking and alive, he'd be lying. They're more like magnets, pulling at each other restlessly, unable to push apart of their own volition, both of them lost to the other's pull and neither of them even remotely displeased about it. 

How could they be? They've found their place in each other's arms. 

Usually, Lance is better at their little game, taking Keith apart with hidden smiles and gestures he lets only Keith see, just to put him back together again, wanting and impatient; but this time, Keith has a head start. And he's going to use it to his advantage. 

Lance glances around the room to see if anyone notices the way he and Keith are exchanging looks, but the party is in full swing and everyone, including the other paladins, is too busy, too drunk to pay any attention to them. Once Lance's certain that no one's watching them, he turns to Keith again. Keith grins. Even across the room, he can see that Lance's eyes are full of hunger. And nothing but the taste of Keith's skin will satiate Lance. Keith knows the feeling all too well. Both of them do. 

There are many things that Keith knows about Lance. When he wakes up in the morning. How he prefers his coffee, or the space equivalent of coffee. What kind of drink Lance likes best. Keith knows that Lance is a patient man.  
Images flash in Keith's mind; Lance, riling him up slowly and sweetly. Lance, teasing him endlessly, dangling what Keith wants just out of reach, restraining himself determinedly, waiting until Keith begs him; until then, he'll deny not only Keith but also himself the pleasure of simply giving in and letting them both have what they so desperately want.  
What they need. 

Sometimes, Keith wishes they didn't have to sneak around in secret.  
It's awful. It's nerve-wracking. It's thrilling. 

It's addictive. 

Keith smiles as Lance shoots him another hungry glance before he makes his way through the crowd and leaves the room. Keith looks at the clock; he's to follow Lance after three minutes, and he doesn't want to waste a single second. 

Sipping his drink impatiently, he watches as the seconds tick by torturously slow.  
The clock barely gets to tick past two minutes and thirty seconds before Keith's downing the remnants of his glass, setting it down on the nearest surface and walking to the doorway as fast as he dares. 

Not much unlike the clock, Keith barely makes it into the dark, seemingly empty hallway before he's pressed against the wall by a hot, heavy body. An excited giggle makes its way out of him. One he'd deny if he were sober. 

"So impatient", he coos, and there's a low growl from above -and really, all around- him. Muscled arms clad in dark blue cage him in, and he manages to tilt his head up the fraction of a second before hungry lips slide over his own. He gasps against Lance's mouth, quiet and soft, and Lance takes the opportunity to lick into Keith. Keith decides that Lance must've drunk something involving ginger, or something very close to it; Lance tastes warm and sweet and sharp.  
Needy, Keith wraps his arms around Lance's shoulders. Even though he's grown a bit, he's still shorter than Lance, because Lance has grown too, so he pushes onto his tiptoes, trying to get higher, closer. 

Lance's smirk against his own lips is as sharp as the taste of ginger that's making a home in Keith's mouth. 

They pull apart after an eternity that's too short by far.  
Keith's pretty sure that out of the kiss and the air, the latter is less important, and before he's regained his breath properly, he's leaning up again, kissing Lance while digging his fingers into the fabric of Lance's suit jacket. 

Not being able to breathe feels better than it should. 

"You're such a tease", Lance murmurs as he breaks the kiss, making up for it by pressing his body against Keith's, trapping Keith between him and the wall. Keith welcomes it, fitting himself against Lance's body tightly and letting out the kind of impatient whine that always reminds Lance of a siren's call. A call he's always followed.  
"I think you need to be reminded of who's in charge here", Lance says as he leans down to nip at Keith's throat, drawing a desperate, high-pitched sound from the depths of Keith's chest.

Keith almost chuckles, but he's cut off by the soft 'Oh' that's forced from him when Lance bites his neck gently, the resulting spark of pleasure stealing the breath from his lungs. 

He knows that Lance likes being in control; he enjoys it when Lance takes control. But Lance seems to forget that he's Keith's as much as Keith is his. And he's owned Keith since the very moment their eyes met for the first time, so long ago, and Keith would give all of himself to Lance if he gave Keith as much as the sliver of a hint that he wants him to. 

"I'm in control", Keith teases breathlessly while Lance kisses and bites Keith's neck; sharp little punches that suck the air directly from Keith's throat before it even reaches his lungs. "Obviously."

Lance hums against the soft skin of Keith's neck, contemplating. Then, suddenly and without the trace of a warning he bites down; Keith's eyes snap open in surprise and he cries out. The sound is clear and clean-cut. Lance's eyes flash in the dim light. It's something ravenous, and dark, and aggressive, and Keith shivers in anticipation of what Lance'll do to him. 

"Oh, so you're in control?", Lance whispers, smirking. Keith nods, whining weakly, helplessly, and drags Lance even closer by his jacket until they're a single shape in the dark. He doesn't think he could stand anymore without Lance holding him up. 

Lance noses at the underside of Keith's jawline. 

And Keith's his, has always been his. 

So he tilts his head to the side to give Lance more space, and Lance takes it for the invitation it is. 

A sharp flash of white teeth is all Keith gets before Lance is painting his neck red and blue and purple; deep blue discolourations swelling under Keith's skin and red hot indents arranged in the same curve as Lance's teeth. Keith knows that the colour will have faded from his skin far too soon for his liking. The breathy, needy noises and whiny moans he lets out would be embarrassing if he didn't know that they make Lance lose control of himself so much faster. Keith's panting lightly and clinging to Lance for support by the time Lance pulls back to admire the artful display of ownership he's left on Keith. A display Keith will have to cover up if he doesn't want to be asked questions he won't be able to answer. 

He huffs in dissatisfaction at the thought, the sound teetering on the edge of another whine. 

"Shh, Darling", Lance whispers, wrapping Keith up in his embrace, "let me take care of you."

Keith wonders if it's him, if his thoughts are written so obviously on his face, or if it's Lance, if it's just the way Lance is that enables him to read Keith so easily. But that's a question for another time. For when Lance's pull on him isn't so strong he can't breathe or think properly. 

He nods eagerly; he'll always let Lance take care of him. Even if Lance's definition of taking care means he'll play Keith like a puppet until he's begging before he knows it; and by that point, they'll very likely not even be remotely close to being halfway done with what Lance has in mind. 

Lance takes Keith's hand and pulls him away from the wall; they stumble down the hallway, away from the party, their limbs not quite as coordinated as usual, their minds clouded with alcohol and desire and the endless pull that keeps them coming back to each other. 

They're not magnets, Keith thinks. They're far more than that. 

They're black holes, caught in each other's orbits, pulling and pulling and pulling and pulling because not to pull would be against their very nature. 

And they'll pull and drag each other closer and closer until they'll meld into one, to never be separated again.

Impatiently, Keith wonders how much longer it'll take.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've posted anything I've written, so it's probably kinda awkward  
> (But that's okay)


End file.
